


The Daughter

by EvieFuller



Series: Half-Baked Ideas. [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Tom Riddle, Baby Death Eaters - Freeform, Dark Harry Potter, F/M, False Identity, Female Harry Potter, Gellert Grindelwald is Harry's Father, Time Period: WWII
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-04-27 10:16:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14423271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvieFuller/pseuds/EvieFuller
Summary: Fem!Harry/TMRIt’s 1944, Grindelwald’s conquest of Europe is nearly complete, and Hida has been tasked by her father, the Dark Lord himself, to infiltrate Hogwarts and keep Dumbledore out of the fighting. She will not fail.





	1. Transfer

**Author's Note:**

> I intend for this to be a bit of a bildungsroman. Fem!Harry was raised on the wrong side of WWII, so it is not until she gets to England and starts hearing about the atrocities committed by the muggle Third Reich and her father's part in it, that she is exposed to different points of view. She will never be a light, fluffy character, but she is definitely going to have to confront some hard truths in this story.
> 
> Note: I just realized that my original summary (Starting with, "It's 1945...") was not accurate for the beginning of this story. We are actually opening Hida's tale in September of 1944 (for the 1944-45 school year)...The last 9 months of WWII in Europe.

Hida Grindelwald stared at her reflection in the large, gilt-framed mirror. The seventeen-year-old witch barely recognized herself. Gone were her honey gold curls, so similar to her father’s, replaced instead with untamable raven locks that desperately needed a smoothing potion. 

And her eyes, usually unobstructed and arresting, were covered by round wire frames. Color altering spells tended to go wonky when applied to eyes for long periods of time, so she had been forced to resort to the less complete disguise of glasses, leaving her eyes their original emerald green. Even still, the addition of the ugly glasses and the change in hair color were all that was necessary to transform her into a new person.

Dumbledore would not recognize her as Grindelwald’s daughter, not when he had no reason to suspect she even existed in the first place. Everyone knew that her mother, Lily Evans Peverell, half blood and the last descendent of the main Peverell line, had been murdered during a botched assassination attempt back when her father was first rising to power. What no one realized was that Lily had sacrificed herself for their daughter, a child only a handful of people had even known had been born. 

The incident had left Hida with a small white scar in the shape of a lightening bolt high on the left side of her forehead, making the young witch, as far as she was aware, the only person to have ever survived the killing curse. Of course, only she and her father were conscious of this momentous fact, and Lord Grindelwald was thoroughly convinced the miracle was attributable to her heritage as the great-great-great-something granddaughter of Antioch Peverell, a famed necromancer and the original owner of the Elder Wand. It was a notion which Hida knew pleased her father in a kind of self-satisfied, look at how brilliant I was to marry a descendent of such a powerful line kind of way. 

As for Hida’s other identity, the infamous Black Hand of the Dark Lord, well, no one outside of her father had ever seen that persona unmasked, and a seventeen-year-old girl was not exactly the first image that popped into anyone’s mind when trying to picture the face of the most deadly dueler in Grindelwald’s army. 

All said, her identity at Hogwarts should hold up under scrutiny. She would be going in as Hida Potter, recently orphaned daughter of the estranged Potter line living in Germany. Her "parents," may they rest in peace, had been unable to bridge the animosity with their family back in England, but Hida was hoping she could reconnect with her only living relatives by moving back to Great Britain. Family was important after all, especially in these trying times. 

The Potters were an ideal family for her cover for reasons other than the German line’s convenient alienation from their British cousins, which had years ago seen them blasted off the family tree. It was a little known fact, but one Albus Dumbledore was sure to be aware of, that the Potters were descended from another branch of the Peverells, that of the youngest of the Three Brothers and the original owner of the Cloak of Invisibility, Ignotus Peverell. Hida’s father was convinced that his old friend had not given up on their shared obsession with the Deathly Hallows, so claiming the connection should gain Hida just the right kind of attention from her target. 

Hida would spread the story that Grindelwald himself had targeted her family, and she was fleeing to what she hoped would be a safe haven in Great Britain. To help sell the story, her father had actually taken the time to kill the Potters himself last month in late July. 

Shortly after the massacre of the Potters, Hida’s father had come to her with her current mission. She was to infiltrate Hogwarts and sabotage any effort Dumbledore made to enter the war in Europe. Her goal was not to kill the talented transfiguration professor, just to distract him. Why Grindelwald was choosing such a pacifistic route with Dumbledore when he’d never shown such consideration for any other old friends who opposed him, Hida didn’t know, but she would follow her orders. 

Her assignment should be over by Yule if the war effort continued as predicted, and she could slip away to claim her rightful place as princess of Grindelwald’s empire. 

Hida took one last steadying breath as she watched her reflection in the mirror before disapparating on the the spot. Seconds later she popped into existence in the shadows outside the barrier to the Hogwarts train platform, Platform 9 and 3/4. With a quick glance around at the muggles, Hida stepped through the brick wall to see the bright red Hogwarts Express with a billowing plume of steam rising above the locomotive. 

Parents and children too young to attend the famed magic school themselves stood to the side in their colorful robes waving at the departing kids, while students hung from windows calling out their final goodbyes to their families. 

Hida felt a small pang of wistfulness at the sight, which she quickly suppressed. She had been homeschooled, trained from a young age to fight in her father’s war, groomed for a position of power which she was right on the cusp of achieving. There was no reason to wish for pointless things like the emotional send off she was currently witnessing. 

Before she had left, Hida’s father had kissed her on her forehead and said, "Ich bin stolz auf dich, Liebling." _I’m proud of you, Darling._ It was enough.

The conductor rang the bell, signaling the final call to board the train, and Hida hurried to enter the nearest carriage. She had purposefully waited until the last minute to show up on the platform because she had wanted the chance to seek out Charlus Potter, her supposed cousin, once he was securely ensconced with all his little friends. Let him think he had the upper hand, that she was insecure and just hoping to find a friendly face to sit with. 

It took several minutes of peering through the windows of various compartments before she spotted the notoriously wild Potter hair, and Hida opened the door after giving it a cursory knock. 

Charlus Potter was notably the only Gryffindor in the room. He sat holding hands with a pretty blonde girl dressed in Slytherin robes, and surrounded by four other boys who looked to be the same age, also dressed in Slytherin robes. Their heads all swiveled to look at her as she entered the compartment, before easily the most handsome boy she had ever seen, with piercing chocolate colored eyes and dark charcoal hair neatly styled to sweep along his forehead, arched his brow and asked, "Yes? Can we help you?"

She looked at the boy for a long moment, noting the Head Boy badge on his robes and half wishing her disguise didn’t require the unfortunate looking glasses currently adorning her face, before she offered a slight curtsy, a gesture one would use to greet an equal as she could not stand the thought of even implying that she believed any of these students outranked her, and turned her attention back to her pretend cousin.

"Charlus Potter?" She asked with only the faintest hint of a German accent, making sure her voice sounded appropriately hesitant. It wasn’t that hard to do. Despite her normal confidence, Hida had never experienced being the new kid at a school before. All of her normal social interactions tended to center on ballroom etiquette and secret political meetings, not making nice with other teenagers. 

"Yes?" He peered at her curiously, eyes flickering over the hair she had charmed to look like his. 

"My name is Hida Potter, and," she hesitated, "I am your cousin."

"What?" Charlus breathed, an utterly befuddled look appearing on his face. "I don’t have any cousins. Not girls anyway."

"I, um, I was hoping to speak with you," she trailed off, looking purposefully at the other students gathered in the compartment. Underneath, however, she was hoping he would want her to speak in front of the other students. Not that it would make a huge difference either way. Hida was sure her story would make the rounds one way or another. She doubted this Charlus was going to keep what she had to say secret, not after she had just ambushed him in front of his friends. 

"Okay," Charlus said slowly, not moving from his seat on the cushioned bench and making Hida grin internally. "You say you’re my cousin. But you sound German?" And there was the suspicion entering these teenager’s eyes. Her father was in the news almost daily, even here in England. 

Hida looked at the Potter heir for a long moment, wondering if he was truly ignorant of the fact that he had had family in her home country, before nodding. "Yes, I am from Germany. Regensburg. My father is—" she stopped, swallowed thickly. "Was. My father was Henry Potter." 

She waited for recognition to dawn on the boy, but it never came. Oh, this was too perfect. Charlus didn’t even know enough about his extended family to bear them any ill will. It wasn’t that Hida needed him to accept her for her cover to hold, but it certainly would make her integration into Hogwarts easier. 

"I don’t—" Charlus shook his head, still with that same slightly stunned look in his eyes.

"Perhaps," the handsome boy who had first spoken when Hida entered the room broke in, halting the painfully awkward conversation, "you would like to take a seat Miss Potter? And the rest of us could be properly introduced?"

Hida smiled at him gratefully, moving to sit on an empty section of the bench. "Hida Potter. It is a pleasure to meet you," she pronounced boldly, and held out her hand palm down for the handsome boy to kiss.

He was only a second too slow to take her hand, but it was a long enough delay to clue her in to the fact that kissing lady’s hands was not a gesture he practiced often. England, she recalled, was typically less formal than most areas of Europe. Still, with a murmured "Tom Riddle," the attractive Slytherin completed the greeting smoothly enough. 

The three remaining boys, Ramsey LeStrange, Marcus Avery, and Arcturus Black, were quick to follow Riddle’s lead, each kissing the air above her hand and stating their names, while Dorea Black, the only other girl in the room, merely gave a graceful nod of her head when she was introduced—not quite as friendly as the boys, but it was at least polite. 

"So, did your family move here to get away from the war?" LeStrange piped up somewhat tactlessly. 

"Grindelwald targeted my family himself. The only relatives I have left are all here in Britain." 

"Nobody told me that," Charlus whispered, unsure what to feel upon learning about the murder of family members he had not even known existed before today. 

"No, well, our parents were not exactly on speaking terms, no?"

"W-why didn’t you write a letter or something? To let us know what happened at least. Why did you have to wait to tell me here?" 

"I could not. Your father warded against all letters from my entire family." Hida honestly thought the boy was acting a little selfish with his demands. She was the supposedly freshly orphaned girl, while Charlus was the teenager who never even knew the dead family existed. Tragedy, she supposed, had been mostly absent from his life however, so she would tolerate his dramatics. 

Tom Riddle again broke in to derail the tension. "I’m sorry for your loss," he said, and it sounded sincere. 

"Oh! Um, yes. I am too! Sorry I mean," Charlus stuttered out before Hida could do more than smile at Riddle gratefully. 

"So if Grindelwald personally attacked your family, how did you escape?" It was a question that was probably on all of their minds, but LeStrange seemed to be the only one rude enough to actually voice it. 

Hida felt an empathetic stab of pity when she glanced at Potter, the feeling helping her to stay in character when she finally stuttered a reply. "I, that is, I had an emergency portkey." She fingered the thin band of black diamonds circling her right middle finger, which was in actuality one of several emergency portkeys she kept on her person at all times. 

"And I would prefer not to talk about that day," she finished more firmly. 

"So. Are you going to be sorted with the firsties?" Dorea Black asked. It was an awkward segue, and Hida could tell Charlus Potter was far from fully accepting her or the present situation, but she was willing allow the topic change. She had imparted the necessary details, and she felt sure it would soon become common knowledge that Grindelwald had personally attacked her family. Hopefully that information would peak Dumbledore’s interest. 

"I believe so, yes."

"Any idea what house you will be in?"

"How is that determined?" Hida knew some kind of magical artifact was used to measure a student’s personality traits, but she hoped she could get a clearer answer from these teenagers. 

"Oh, that’s a school secret," Riddle joined she and Dorea’s back and forth. "No one gets to know until their sorting, but I can tell you that it’s based on your personality. Slytherin for the cunning and ambitious. Gryffindor for the brave and chivalrous. Ravenclaw for the quick witted and wise. And Hufflepuff for the loyal and hardworking, and anyone else who doesn’t fit in any other house." 

Hida considered his words. It was interesting that the school divided children up based on these traits at the tender age of eleven. She couldn’t imagine the same traits would define a person at seventeen as they did as a preteen. 

There was no question in Hida’s mind that she possessed traits from all four of the houses. She was brave, and she had fought in numerous battles with the odds stacked against her to prove it. She wasn’t afraid of hard labor, and she had inherited her father’s intellect. However, ambition perhaps outweighed the others. She did, after all, want to help her dad take over Europe so that she could one day inherit a vast kingdom. 

"Slytherin I suspect," she eventually responded, before tilting her head and adding, "Though perhaps Gryffindor." She was, ultimately, a woman of action, so the red and gold house was probably the second most likely.

Her answer elicited an odd smattering of laughter from the others, and Hida looked at them with a furrowed brow, for the first time genuinely confused by her companions. "What?"

It was Arcturus Black who finally answered. "Slytherin and Gryffindor are complete opposites. We’re rival houses, have been since practically the founding of Hogwarts."

"You cannot be both brave and ambitious?"

"Not with the way those traits are displayed at Hogwarts," Riddle smirked.

"What does that mean?" 

"Us Slytherins are cunning. We think before we act. We’re resourceful, and self-preservation is valued above foolish martyrdom," Marcus Avery spoke up for the first time. "Gryffindors," here he gave a small sneer, "rush headlong into situations without thinking about the consequences. The fools all want to die heroes." 

"Gryffindors," Charlus, the token Gryffindor of the group, rejoined, "think about the welfare of others. We wouldn’t throw somebody else at a raging hippogryph to save our own skins." 

"See! Determined to die a hero, just like I said," Avery exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. 

"You Brits have odd notions of the human psyche," Hida concluded. "In Germany, we do not pigeonhole ourselves so. I should hope never to be so one dimensional." Too late, Hida realized how offensive her response may be to the British witches and wizards sitting with her. 

The compartment was utterly silent for several long seconds, then Riddle scoffed, a low chuckle building in his chest. "That is certainly one way to look at it, though the sorting is a valued English tradition."

"Of course," Hida conceded, slightly chagrined.

The conversation turned largely to everyone else’s summers after that, the friends intent on catching up with one another, and while Hida wasn’t excluded, she also didn’t have much to add. She did notice that, despite being the clear leader of the group, Riddle seemed to speak very little, and he divulged almost nothing about how he had spent the last couple of months. It was somewhat curious, but Hida supposed it was ultimately inconsequential, and she paid it no real mind. 

The rest of the trip to Hogwarts passed in pleasant conversation and several games of chess, which Hida dominated once she was invited to compete. It was a skill Hida possessed more thanks to relentless training than any natural inclination, her father a big believer in all manner of war games, but Hida couldn’t help the enjoyment she took in knocking the smug look off of Arcturus Black, the former reigning champion’s, face. 

When the train pulled into the station at Hogsmeade, Hida thanked the group politely for letting her sit with them on the train and made to leave.

Riddle spoke up before she could exit however, saying, "It was a pleasure to meet you as well Ms. Potter. If you end up sorted into Slytherin, we will save a seat for you."

Hida smiled slightly, noting the barely hidden surprise on the other Slytherin’s faces. "Thank you," she murmured, sinking into a light curtsey before walking away.

Charlus Potter watched her leave with an enigmatic look on his face.

"She’s very formal, isn’t she," Avery commented.

"I don’t know why," Charlus responded. "If her family moved to Germany after being blasted off our tree, they can’t have been claiming our title or have had access to the family money while they were over there. Who would she have been around that she would need such noble manners? It’s all very…curious."


	2. Sorting

Hida was ushered into a room with a bunch of small first years who kept giving the older girl curious looks, though none of them were brave enough to actually speak to her. Honestly, she felt rather bored stuck in this antechamber with these nervous preteens, and she hoped a teacher would come get them soon. To amuse herself, she thought about what a grand addition Hogwarts, which was just as majestic as rumored, would make to her empire once they conquered England. She could imagine hosting grand balls and war counsels within these walls, and she hoped her father would grant the castle to her as a reward. 

Several minutes passed in this manner before the famed Dumbledore finally came to fetch the group of students to be sorted. Hida observed her target (for once not a target destined to meet a violent end) closely. She had been provided several pictures of the man, of course, but they didn’t do justice to his sheer presence when he was standing before her in person. 

Physically, Dumbledore was pretty average: tall, thin, auburn haired, and with a crooked nose set in a moderately handsome face. But magically, he was anything but. His bright magic filled the air around him with a sense of carefully controlled power to such a degree that even the least sensitive first year was practically slapped in the face with it. 

This was the man that was making her father hesitate. 

In another second, all of that energy withdrew, tightly muffled in an impressive display of self-discipline, and Hida saw several of the first years heave deep breaths as the pressure was removed. 

"Good evening and welcome to Hogwarts!" The Deputy Headmaster greeted before jovially introducing himself and quickly explaining the house system at Hogwarts. Once he had completed his opening speech, Dumbledore had the group of first years and Hida follow him into the Great Hall. 

The massive room they were led into was already filled with the upperclassmen who were sitting at their four long house tables. Far more impressive than the room’s sheer size though, was the architecture. The eleven year olds gasped in awe upon seeing the ceiling reflecting the starry night sky back at them, and even Hida, who had been afforded the opportunity to tour some of the most beautiful buildings in Europe, found the hall outstanding. 

Dumbledore stopped them in a line before a small, three-legged chair with a grungy pointed hat sitting upon it, and before Hida had much time to be confused by the production, the headgear animated and began to sing. 

"School secret, indeed," she mused. She really couldn’t blame Hogwarts for keeping secret the fact that they let a dirty, old hat determine their children’s futures. Honestly, no wonder they thought bravery and cunning were mutually exclusive if this thing was the determining factor!

When the sorting hat had finished singing, Dumbledore stepped forward and unraveled a scroll. "This year, we have one transfer student who will be sorted before the first years. Miss Hida Potter, if you could please come forward."

Hida walked up to the hat amongst whispers from the student body. Hogwarts had had a smattering of transfer students over the course of the last few years with the war in Europe raging, but the event was still uncommon enough to garner interest. 

When she came level with the stool, Dumbledore handed her the hat and gestured for her to sit down. Feeling slightly ridiculous sitting on the small stool, Hida obeyed the Deputy Headmaster’s wordless command, tightened her occlumency barriers, and placed the hat on her head. 

Immediately she felt a strong magical presence press up against her shields, and she worried for a second that the ancient artifact was going to overwhelm her. The presence backed off quickly enough though, and proceeded to tap rather annoyingly at her mental barrier, asking for entrance. Realizing that she would not be sorted unless she allowed the hat some leeway, Hida granted it entrance to a separately walled off section of her mind, allowing her to communicate with the headgear telepathically. 

"Interesting," a smooth tenor rang out. "Very interesting. Rare is the teenager with enough discipline to have such highly developed mental protections. Miss Hida Potter, was it?"

"Yes," she answered succinctly. "What do you need to know to sort me?"

"I assume I cannot convince you to allow me full access to your mind?" When she responded in the negative, the hat continued, "In that case, I will have to have you answer a series of questions. Understand that this will only be as accurate a method as you are honest, and even then, this method will still be far from the accuracy I would have if you would allow me to truly read you."

"I’m okay with a slightly less precise sorting if it means my mind will remain my own," she thought firmly, and the hat almost seemed to sigh in response. What followed was a series of queries that ranged from the mundane (Are you a morning person or a night person?) to the truly bizarre (Describe the color yellow to someone who is blind). The students were beginning to grow restless when the hat finally called out "Slytherin!", and Hida moved towards the table with the green table runner. 

She spotted the students she had sat with on the train and took her seat amongst them as quickly as she could without appearing to rush. 

"That took you awhile," Ramsey LeStrange whispered as Dumbledore worked his way through the list of first years. "You were practically a hat stall."

Hida just shrugged nonchalantly. "Some of the hat’s questions took a while to answer."

"Questions?" LeStrange asked at the same moment a platinum blonde boy Hida hadn’t met yet exclaimed, "Wait, the hat talks?"

Had Hida thought about it a moment longer, she supposed she would have concluded that all of them would have been read by the hat the traditional way since the chances of an eleven-year-old having advanced enough occlumency skills to keep the magic of the hat out was slim to none. As it was though, she didn’t really see any reason to conceal the fact that her mind was properly guarded, and bluntly stated, "My mind is my own. The hat had to question me rather than read me so I could be sorted."

Turning towards the blonde, she noticed a shiny prefect badge adorning his robes and figured the boy must be in a lower year. "I’m sorry. I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure. I’m Hida Potter," she held her hand out for a kiss just as she had earlier on the train, and this boy didn’t hesitate to complete the greeting, apparently more used to the gesture than Tom Riddle had been. 

"Abraxas Malfoy. I’m the 5th Year prefect for Slytherin, and I’ll be leading you and the first years to the Slytherin dorms after the feast. It’s nice to meet you Miss Potter." 

Their brief interaction was interrupted before Hida could do more than smile in reply when Headmaster Dippet stood from his seat at the center of the teacher’s table, quieting the entire hall. "Welcome back to Hogwarts everyone! And to all of our new students, I would just like to say how very pleased I am that you are all joining us here this year. I am sure you will all do your new houses proud. 

"I know the papers this summer have been filled with grim news about the war in Europe, and with stories of the strife that has already reached British shores in the muggle world. These are dark times, but I want to assure each and every one of you that you are safe here. Hogwarts has stood strong against our enemies for a millennia. Our protections are second to none, and we will not fall to Grindelwald now."

Here Hida scoffed internally. They had Grindelwald’s own daughter, probably the deadliest fighter in his entire army, sitting innocuously among them. Safe, indeed. 

The Headmaster watched the gathering of students solemnly for a long second before continuing in his slightly croaky baritone, "I know many of you are aware that some of our recent graduates have chosen to join the war effort, and I would ask that you all keep them in your thoughts and pray to Magic for their safe return. Now, if we could take a moment of silence to remember those who have fallen these last two months, specifically Mary Anne Walker, Thomas Higgs, Justin McDougal, and William Shacklebolt. They will be greatly missed."

Heavy silence greeted the Headmaster’s pronouncement, and Hida bowed her head in respect for the bravery and sacrifice exhibited by her enemies. 

A solid minute passed before the Headmaster nodded his head in acceptance. "Thank you. Now on a different note, I would like to welcome Professor Silvanus Kettleburn. He will be taking over for Professor Pixley as the Care of Magical Creatures instructor, and I have every confidence he will be a wonderful addition to our family here at Hogwarts." Polite clapping answered the announcement as a short brunette man who looked enthusiastic, to say the least, stood and waved at the student body. 

"Now, please enjoy the feast!" Dippet spread his hands out dramatically, and golden platters piled high with food suddenly appeared on all four tables. 

Hida immediately began filling her plate with an assortment of healthier options, feeling ravenous after only consuming a few chocolate frogs on the train in lieu of lunch. 

"So you were able to block the hat out completely?" Tom Riddle leaned towards her from his spot a couple of seats down the table, face animated in a way it had not been for the entirety of the train ride to Hogwarts, and Hida briefly wondered if the boy might not have been better suited for Ravenclaw. "I’ve seen references to occlumency in several books, but our library is unfortunately lacking in any instructional manuals for the art."

"My father taught me," Hida grinned, not quite able to mask her pride in the accomplishment. "Unfortunately, all of my books were destroyed, and they were written in German, so I’m not sure they would have been useful to you regardless," she grimaced at the sharp disappointment darkening Riddle’s eyes, and quickly offered, "I could give you some pointers though, if you would like."

It was clear her offer didn’t appeal to the Head Boy quite as much as learning from a book, but he nodded in acceptance nonetheless, quietly thanking her.

"There’s also a chance some of my books have English translations," she pointed out, feeling strangely accomplished as Riddle’s lips curved up in a pleased smile. "I could give you the names, and you could ask some bookstores if they carry them."

"That would be much appreciated," he nodded, leaning towards her expectantly.

It took her a few seconds to think of a good translation, but eventually she said, "The two I found most helpful translate to something like _Building Your Mind Palace_ by Karl von Essen and _To Catch a Thought Thief_ by Rosa Alfonsi, which was actually originally written in Italian. Von Essen’s book is more of a beginner’s manual while the other deals with some higher level techniques, but both were very good."

"Oh, I actually think I saw Alfonsi’s book in my library at home," Arcturus Black piped up. "I could write my father and ask him to send it to me for you Tom."

A dark look shadowed Riddle’s face for a fleeting moment as he muttered, "You never mentioned you had any books on occlumency Arcturus."

"I’m sorry my…I didn’t realize you were looking into the subject," Black responded, looking far more apologetic than Hida really thought the situation warranted, before he continued with a slightly sheepish expression. "I, ah, also didn’t know that that book, or well any of our books, dealt with occlumency."

Tom leaned back, seemingly appeased. "Please do write your father. I’d be very interested in reading it and any others your family might possess."

"Of course!" Black exclaimed eagerly, and Hida couldn’t help but to arch her brow at the boy’s dramatics. He struck her as a bit of a brown-noser for a scion of such a powerful noble family. 

The rest of dinner was largely consumed with introductions to more people than Hida had any hope 0f remembering, and shortly after the tables cleared of desserts, Abraxas Malfoy motioned for her to follow him. 

She was once again lumped in with the 1st Years as they were led along a rather circuitous route down into the depths of the castle’s dungeons. After winding through several completely deserted halls and ducking through a couple of false walls, Malfoy finally stopped them in front of a completely blank stretch of wall and said, "This is the entrance to the Slytherin common room. You can tell you are in the right place by the row of little snake carvings up near the ceiling," he pointed, and Hida could just make out a series of squiggly shadows in the dim light that she supposed could be snakes. 

"The password is _Cura Te Ipsum_ ," Malfoy said, turning to speak to the wall, and the solid stone seemed to melt away before their eyes. "It will change every 2 weeks, and the new password will be posted on the message board over there," the blonde gestured towards a polished silver platter hanging near the entrance that had several bullet-pointed notices scrawled on its surface in deep emerald ink. 

As Malfoy continued to give out instructions about life in Slytherin, Hida inspected the common room, admiring the good taste of whoever decorated the space. Several beautiful, crystal chandeliers spaced evenly along the high vaulted ceiling reflected the blue-green light shining in from the large windows which looked out into the depths of the Black Lake, giving the entire room an almost glittering aspect. And the lighting was only complimented by the pleasing array of comfortable looking green furniture situated around several large, stone fireplaces. Despite the slightly overdone snake theme that could be seen on nearly every surface, Hida thought the room was very elegant.

Her contemplation was interrupted by a shrill voice, and Hida turned in the direction of the shrieking, only mildly surprised that someone would so publicly and vehemently oppose her presence. 

"I don’t care! I won’t sleep in the same room as that, that _German_!" A short, pale girl with mousy brown hair and watery blue eyes was storming towards her from across the common room with all the self-righteous fury of a two-year-old whose favorite toy had been snatched away. 

"You," the girl spat once she was a few feet away from Hida, pointing her finger threateningly. "You may have been sorted Slytherin, but don’t think that means you get to waltz in here and stay in our dormitory with us. You’ll have to find somewhere else to spend the night. I won’t be sleeping in the same bedroom as an enemy!"

The mousy girl yelled the last part, jabbing her finger several times as though she believed large hand gestures and a raised voice would make her more easily understood. Hida merely arched a disbelieving eyebrow in response. "I’m sorry, who are you?"

"Patricia Pettigrew, if you must know, and you’re that German girl that’s transferred into my year," Pettigrew stated, sneering at Hida’s nationality. "I won’t have it."

"Well, Patricia," Hida said, intentionally using the girl’s first name rather than a more formal address, though the slight seemed to go over the other Slytherin’s head, "I don’t believe that’s your call to make. If you have a problem sharing a dorm room with me, you may take it up with the teachers, but until someone with actual authority tells me otherwise, I’ll be sleeping in the 7th Year girls’ dorm." 

"If you force us to share with you," Pettigrew snarled, her anger clearly mounting by the second, "you better expect retribution. I can make you miserable."

It was a weak threat, and as Hida let her eyes trail slowly along the other girl’s form from head to foot, every inch of her demeanor displayed just how truly unimpressed the battle hardened girl was. "I’d like to see you try," she said dryly, and turned to walk up the stairs that Malfoy had said led to her dorm in clear dismissal. 

The brush-off was apparently the last straw for Pettigrew as in the next second she had drawn her wand and cast the darkest spell she knew at the foreigner’s back. "Detrudo!" she shouted before she could really think about the fact that the bright orange Entrail-Expelling curse would actually kill the other girl. 

Quick as a snake, however, Hida whipped around and deflected the spell harmlessly into the ceiling with a technique only ever used by champion duelers. A fraction of a second later, she had Pettigrew bound and silenced in a trussed up heap at her feet, and she was almost visibly struggling not to go any further. "I should kill you where you lie, you bitch," she hissed too quietly for anyone more than a few feet away to hear. 

The feral light in Hida’s eyes was probably the most terrifying thing Pettigrew had ever seen, and she immediately burst into silent sobs, shaking her head frantically. Seconds later a foul stench reached Hida’s nose, letting her know the hogtied girl had wet herself. 

"Pathetic," Hida sneered. "You ever try to do something like that again—" She let the half spoken threat hang in the air ominously for several long seconds before slashing her wand in a lightning fast movement. An electric blue piercing curse shot from her wand, drilling a perfectly circular, inch wide hole a full foot deep into the solid stone floor right beside Pettigrew’s head. "And I won’t miss."

Spinning away abruptly, Hida marched up to the girls’ dorm, leaving a stunned common room behind. 

As soon as the newest addition to Slytherin was out of sight, the room erupted with chatter. Deflecting curses was a skill only utilized by the masters due to the sheer level of precision required in catching a spell on your wand tip and redirecting it. And Hida Potter had just done it _instinctively_ , like it was as easy as swatting a fly. 

"Are you insane!" Marlene Davis whisper-shrieked, running to release her fellow 7th Year Slytherin. "What were you thinking attacking the new girl like that? They’re saying she escaped from Grindelwald himself!"

Across the room sitting quietly in his usual seat before the largest fire in the dungeons, Tom Riddle’s eyes gleamed with interest.


	3. First Attempt

The morning after the Welcoming Feast, Hida rose before the rest of her new dorm-mates. The bed nearest the door was empty, so she assumed that that Pettigrew girl had been true to her word and refused to sleep in here. 

Rolling her eyes, Hida grabbed her toiletries and stepped into the white marbled bathroom to take a quick but refreshing hot shower. When she had finished, she toweled off and cast a drying charm on her hair, annoyed as the glamour spelling her golden curls black and wild caused her locks to poof up in a riotous mess that required an additional 15 minutes to wrestle into some semblance of order. That was going to take some getting used to. 

Once she was finally ready, Hida made her way downstairs to find the Slytherin common room deserted. Deciding now was as a good a time as any to start exploring the beautiful castle, the disguised girl opted against waiting for a guide to lead her to the Great Hall and set out on her own. 

The corridors outside the Slytherin entrance were lit only by a series of evenly spaced wall sconces, making it impossible to determine the time of day. The dungeons were a maze of dim stone passages with no paintings or windows to mark the way, and they would look no different at midnight or high noon. 

Hida wandered aimlessly in the direction she thought led to the rest of the castle, but could just as easily be sending her deep within the bowels of the ancient stone building. She wasn’t worried though, confident that she could reach out at any time with her magic to locate the concentration of magical cores that would be the rest of the student body. 

Roughly 40 minutes of walking later, she was about ready to do just that, thoroughly bored with the lack of variation in this labyrinth, when strong protective magic drew her attention to a seemingly blank expanse of wall a few yards in front of her.

Pulling out her wand, Hida prodded the wards curiously. It was a delicate weave of magic, intended more to conceal than to actually keep anyone out, but it displayed a raw and almost artistic talent—she felt absolutely certain that this spot would be almost impossible to discover for anyone less magic sensitive than her. It was just bad luck for whoever was trying to hide what she expected was probably a door of some type that she happened to stumble upon this particular stretch of wall. This deep in the dungeons, these beautiful and subtle wards should have been foolproof. 

Glancing at her pocket watch, Hida scowled. She really didn’t have time to bypass these protections. At least not if she wanted to keep them in tact. She would have to return later to investigate this little mystery. 

Walking further down the hall, she tagged a random stone near the ceiling with a tracking charm, then reached out with her magic to locate the other students. From there it was easy enough to find her way to the Great Hall, and she was sitting down at the still mostly empty Slytherin table in short order. 

She was on her second cup of tea, leisurely making her way through her breakfast of fruit and buttered rolls, when her fellow year mates finally began trickling in.

"Good morning," she greeted the group she had sat with last night as Riddle took up position across from her, and they all nodded back sleepily. The Head Boy immediately poured himself a steaming cup of coffee and began taking greedy sips without adding any cream or sugar to the bitter drink, looking as close to blissful as she had ever seen him. 

Her companions were obviously not morning people, and the meal passed in quiet peace until the morning post interrupted the tranquility. 

Hundreds of owls, more than she had ever seen at one time, suddenly began streaming through the open windows, hooting and screeching as they attempted to find the intended recipients of their letters through the chaos. It was with no little surprise that Hida observed a nondescript barn owl landing in front of her and holding out a rolled-up piece of parchment for her to take, but she was still careful to run several high-level diagnostic charms before she finally accepted it. 

The writing was spiky and elegant, asking her to meet with the deputy headmaster after breakfast. Well, he certainly didn't waste any time, she thought. Looking up, Hida asked, "Can anyone tell me how to reach Professor Dumbledore’s office?"

Riddle offered to walk her there before anyone else had a chance to answer, apparently rejuvenated by his coffee, and Hida felt an unfamiliar little flutter in her stomach at his attention. Figuring having a guide for this couldn’t hurt, she accepted, and they got up to leave several minutes later. 

"Do you know what Dumbledore wants?" He asked, leading her up a set of stairs. 

"I’m not sure," she shrugged. She was optimistic that the teacher’s curiosity had been raised by the gossip about her supposed background, as her new head of house should have been able to handle any administrative issues, but she couldn’t be positive about that. "He most likely just wants to go over my class schedule."

Riddle nodded in agreement, though his eyebrows were raised skeptically, and gestured towards the closed oak door they had stopped before. "Well, this is his office."

"Thanks for walking me here," she smiled and stepped forward to knock on the door.

"Come in!" her adversary’s voice called from within, and Hida twisted the knob to enter, leaving her handsome escort in the hallway. 

"You wanted to talk to me professor?" She asked before the purple-clad man had a chance to properly greet her. 

"Yes," Dumbledore peered at her with intense blue eyes. "I tried locating your transcript, so we could make sure you are up to date on all of your classes, you understand? But I ran into a slight snag…"

The transfiguration teacher trailed off, waiting for Hida to fill in the blank, but she just looked back at the professor impassively. An awkward beat passed, and she finally asked, "I’m sorry sir, was there a question in there?"

The auburn haired man sighed, as though the girl in front of him had greatly disappointed him, and continued, "The problem, Miss Potter, is that you didn’t have any school records."

"No, I don’t suppose I would, seeing as to how I never went to school."

"You were homeschooled?"

"Yes, sir."

"And did your parents not keep records of your progress?"

"They did, but they were lost to the fiendfyre that took my family, along with everything else," she answered quietly, looking away as though she couldn’t stand to talk about her personal tragedy. 

"I’m going to be frank, Miss Potter," Dumbledore leaned forward, clasping his hands together in front of him. "There is a war going on, and I am charged with ensuring the safety of my students. Unfortunate as it may be, in times like these, a girl with no records showing up from Germany, the heart of Grindelwald’s regime, is highly suspicious."

Hida’s face hardened, and she hoped the blank expression she knew she adopted anytime she was put on the spot looked more like anger than anxiety to the man before her. "Then let me be equally frank, _sir_ ," she sneered the honorific. "Grindelwald murdered my family. Personally. And my parents knew he was after them. They knew for years, long before I was ever old enough to attend school. Unfortunate as it may be, in times like these, families being forced into hiding is not uncommon." 

Dumbledore stared at her face intensely, looking for any sign that she was not exactly who she presented herself as, and Hida gazed back unflinchingly. Finally he nodded, leaning back. "You are right, of course, and I am very sorry you were forced to grow up in such circumstances. I hope you can forgive an old man for bringing up what I know must be a painful topic, but the questions had to be asked."

Hida looked at him for a long moment without answering before uncrossing her arms and reaching out to grip the back of the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk. He glanced down at the movement, and his eyes caught on the slightly gaudy, antique ring sitting innocuously on her left pointer finger. A pitch black stone with the symbol of the Deathly Hallows etched subtly into its face stared back at him.

Hida felt a thrill of triumph run down her spine at the flash of desperate longing that glinted in her enemy’s eyes, and she nodded, saying softly, "Of course, sir. I cannot begrudge you your caution."

"Thank you my girl," Dumbledore responded automatically, still staring at her finger. When he eventually continued, he sounded decidedly distracted, his eyes flickering between her face and the ring. "On a slightly different note, however, there is still the question of your level of education. I am willing to allow you to remain in your chosen courses with the seventh years for now, but I will be checking in with your teachers regularly for the next few weeks to make sure you are not struggling. If you have any issues with any of the course work, we may need to think about moving you down a grade."

Privately Hida thought the idea that Hogwarts could match her militaristic study regimen under her private tutors was laughable, but she didn’t voice this. Instead she dipped into a small curtsey and murmured a few soft words of thanks.

Turning in the direction of the door, Dumbledore’s next words halted her before she could make a strategic exit. "That’s a very interesting ring you are wearing Miss Potter. It looks antique."

"What?" She feigned confusion, glancing down at her father’s cheap imitation of the resurrection stone, or at least what he guessed it looked like. "Oh, yes. My dad gave it to me when I turned 16."

"It’s a family heirloom?"

Hida couldn’t have contained her smile of success then for the world, but she knew her next words would disguise the real reason for her reaction. "Yes," she hummed. "My dad, he always liked the story behind this one."

"What story?" The professor leaned towards her eagerly, though if Hida hadn’t been aware of the obsession he and her father shared, she supposed his expression might have read as more indulgent curiosity than naked desire.

"Well, it was supposedly a gift to one of my ancestors from his older brother. They’d both lost several of their loved ones to fighting and disease, you see, and they only had each other left. The older brother crafted the ring so that he could always communicate with the one person he cared most about no matter the distance between them, and then he gave it to his baby brother. Allegedly, the older brother was still able to communicate through the ring even after death."

"So the ring is actually a powerful magical artifact?" Dumbledore asked, gaze once again riveted on her hand. 

Hida shrugged nonchalantly. "Supposedly, but I don’t think it actually does anything." 

"Hmmm. Could I look at it my girl? Just for a couple of days, of course. I confess I have always had a great academic curiosity for magical antiques. They always seem to display the most delightful quirks." 

"Oh," Hida clutched the hand bearing the ring to her chest. "I-I’m not sure. It was the last gift my dad ever—" She pretended to choke on the words and looked away, wishing she had the ability to cry on command. 

The professor backed down quickly at her feigned distress, but the almost desperate glint in his blue eyes assured her that this would not be his last attempt to get his hands on her 'family heirloom.' 

Their business apparently concluded, Dumbledore dismissed her with a few more pleasantries, and Hida left fighting to keep her grin of accomplishment off her face. 

Closing the door behind her, she paused when she spotted Riddle casually leaning against the opposite wall. She hadn’t realized he was going to wait on her. 

Hida could sense his retreating magic in the corridor, and it only took her a moment’s contemplation to deduce that he had been listening in on her conversation with Dumbledore. "How much did you hear?" she asked, and the dark-eyed boy smiled as though being caught was the most thrilling thing to happen to him in ages. 

"Don’t worry about Dumbledore," he replied, completely bypassing her question as he pushed off the wall and fell into step beside her. "He’s got it out for anyone who wears green. He’s kept an annoyingly close watch on me ever since I was sorted into Slytherin. Hasn’t trusted me since."

"Did he ever trust you?" she asked, smirking. 

"Probably not, no," he replied with an answering smirk, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walked, which lent him a relaxed air that Hida found unfairly attractive. She just laughed in response, wondering if Riddle was a bit of a rebel underneath that goody two shoes Head Boy title. 

Maybe he would make a good recruit. He was the Head Boy and a Slytherin. He had to be ambitious, a teenage boy looking for his fight, and every generation needed a cause. Why not hers? And if he joined up, all his rich little friends would be sure to follow. She hadn’t been here a day and already she could tell they hung off his words, few though they were, like they were gospel. 

Her father had not sent her here to build a British base, but let it never be said that Hida couldn’t take the initiative.


	4. Helpful Rumors

Great gods above, this was dull, Hida thought, listening to the defense against the dark arts teacher prattle on about a largely worthless shield charm that Hida had learned to blast apart when she was 12. 

It was the Friday of her first week at Hogwarts, and she was already firmly convinced that, had she not had her plans for Dumbledore to occupy herself, she would have been driven to murder by now. At least then she would probably have a few days reprieve from listening to her idiotic classmates struggle to grasp such simple concepts.

Education reform. Being homeschooled, she had never realized how desperately they needed it. But at least this corner of their empire would be getting a complete overhaul. Honestly.

Merrythought’s lecture finally came to an end, but Hida could only sigh as the squat professor began pairing them up to practice the shield, Slytherin to Hufflepuff. 

Glancing at the clock, she moved to stand across from a relatively handsome boy. Only 20 minutes until the bell, and then it would be on to transfiguration where Dumbledore would spend the entire period glancing surreptitiously at the ring she always made sure to keep easily visible during his class. She gave him a month, tops, before he caved to his obvious desire and tried to steal it. She was looking forward to the results of his successful theft; the rune work she had added to her father’s replica was truly masterful, in her opinion. 

Focussing back on her partner—Daniel Smith, he had introduced himself importantly right after Merrythought had called out their names to assign them as partners—Hida asked if he would like to try shielding first, not particularly caring if they ended up running out of time before it was her turn.

Smith raked his eyes slowly over her body, not even trying to hide his blatant perusal, and then flashed her what she was sure he thought was a charming smile. "Want me to show you how it’s done, dove?" He brandished his wand in a technically correct dueler’s pose, though not one Hida would recommend for any fighting outside of the carefully controlled arena that is the professional dueling circuit.

"By all means," she nearly rolled her eyes, tossing a silent Stinging hex his way, "show me 'how it’s done'."

A dark welt bloomed to life on the pulse point of Smith’s neck before he could do much more than flail in surprise. "Shite!" He cursed, drawing several snickers from the nearby Slytherins. 

"I’m sorry," Hida said mildly, "were you not ready to start?"

He scowled briefly before tilting his chin up so that he was looking down his nose at her from his superior height. "No, I wasn’t. But I am now," he declared.

As soon as the words left the sandy-haired boy’s mouth, she shot off a second Stinging hex, landing another hit centimeters away from the first. 

"You’re a feisty thing, aren’t you dove?" Smith leered, clutching a hand to his neck. His eyes flickered over her form again, and any irritation he was feeling seemed to fade. "But you know, you’re holding your wand all wrong if you want to get any real power behind your spells. Meet me in the library after dinner and I can give you a lesson on…proper wand handling."

"Mmmm, I’m going to have to pass. No need to waste either of our time," Hida shot him down, tone dry as a desert.

"Come on, lovely creature like you, I promise it would be no hardship at all to spend a few hours getting you trained right." He clearly intended his tone to sound suave, possibly even seductive, but Hida just thought he sounded slimy and ridiculous.

Arching a disdainful eyebrow, a small sneer tugging at her lips, she replied, "As much experience as I’m sure you have with wands, I assure you, I can find someone else if I change my mind about needing help."

Smith flushed red, his eyes darkening, and his expression seemed caught somewhere between deeply lustful and enraged. It was not an attractive combination. "You’ll change your mind," he growled, stepping towards her. "I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me all class. You’ll be begging for it like the whore I know you are soon. All you have to do is ask nicely, and I might even take you on a date first." 

Fury, hot and scorching, burned through Hida at Smith’s words, finally dissolving her indifference. She would _ruin_ this boy, if not for his incredible disrespect than for his sheer arrogant stupidity. 

Moving forward with narrowed eyes just as the bell rang, she fired an overpowered Stinging hex right at Smith’s groin this time, dropping him with a yowling cry. Staring at the Hufflepuff with icy contempt as his whimpering tapered off, she hissed, "My answer will always be no. I don’t date little boys who can’t even block a simple Stinging hex."

"Miss Potter! What is the meaning of this?" Merrythought demanded from several meters behind Hida, apparently having finally noticed that one of her students was injured, though she didn’t appear to have heard any of their confrontation. 

Hida turned around, observing that she now held the attention of more than just the few students who had been practicing around she and Smith. Affecting an apologetic grimace, she gestured towards the downed boy and said, "My aim was rather, um, unfortunately off, and Daniel didn’t get his shield up fast enough." She glanced back at Smith, biting her lip in an effort to appear more sheepish. "I’m so sorry, Daniel. I swear I didn’t mean to hit, well, um—" She trailed off awkwardly.

Smith glared up at her, still clutching himself in pain. "You bitch!" he snarled. "I swear to—"

"Mr. Smith!" Professor Merrythought cut him off before he could issue whatever threat was about to come out of his mouth. "That’s enough. 20 points from Hufflepuff. It was just a standard Stinging hex, yes?" She asked, glancing at Hida. When the Slytherin nodded, Merrythought continued, "Alright then, accidents happen. Watch your language, Mr. Smith."

With that they were dismissed, and Hida quickly gathered her possessions before the idiot Hufflepuff could speak to her again. 

"Not even a week at Hogwarts, and you’ve already been in two fights." Riddle sidled up next to her as they made their way towards the transfiguration corridor on the second floor, the smallest half-smile pulling at his lips.

"I don’t go looking for trouble," she retorted, trying to let go of her irritation. "Trouble usually finds me."

The dark-haired boy let out a surprised laugh at her quip, mirth shining in his eyes. "You must lead a very interesting life, if all of your trouble results in someone getting cursed."

 _You have no idea,_ she thought. Aloud though, she simply jested, "I would hardly classify a Stinging hex as a curse."

"Not even when it’s that well placed?" Riddle turned towards her more fully with raised brows. 

"As I told Professor Merrythought," Hida snickered, her haughty facade breaking, "my aim was rather unfortunately off." 

"Hmm, well I—" Their banter was abruptly cut off by a wailing scream and a sudden flood of water spilling from the girl’s bathroom directly to their right.

Hida spun towards the noise, wand drawn and magic flaring instinctively to search for a threat. Riddle, on the other hand, remained completely undisturbed, though his breath hitched almost imperceptibly when her raw magic washed over him, and he gazed at her with pupils blown wide and hungry. 

"Don’t mind her," Riddle murmured, motioning at the bathroom door. "The new ghost’s just a tad temperamental."

"New ghost?" Hida asked, slowly lowering her wand. 

"A 3rd Year Ravenclaw was killed in there last year, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened," Riddle said, nonchalant. "She’s been haunting that bathroom ever since. At least when she’s not screeching after some other Ravenclaw girl she apparently didn’t like."

"How did she die?" Hida asked curiously, not bothering to act overly upset in the face of Riddle’s seeming unconcern. 

He shrugged, an oddly relaxed gesture from the usually prim Head Boy, and answered, "Slytherin’s legendary monster, or at least some type of beast, was paralyzing students last year. The Heir of Slytherin wrote messages on the walls in blood, and in March, the monster ended up killing her." He nodded in the direction of the muffled moaning noises still emitting from the lavatory. 

"Dramatic. How did they know it was an animal? Did the paralyzed students see their attacker?"

"No," Riddle chuckled, though what he found humorous in her question, Hida couldn’t discern. "Tests on the paralyzed students found that it was wild magic, natural, not a spell or a potion or even an enchanted object. It took them months to figure it out though."

"Months? How many students were paralyzed?"

"Six, not counting the dead girl."

"So few?" Hida asked, feeling incredulous. "How on Earth did they manage to run all of their tests with so few? Was the magic truly so strong that it lingered even after they were unparalyzed?" 

"No," Riddle responded, looking at her curiously. "But they had plenty of time to study the students while they waited on the cure." 

"What? But creature-induced paralysis is easy to cure. It takes, at most, 2 weeks, and the treatment would hardly have hurt anyone if it turned out not to be creature-induced. Do you mean to tell me they actually waited on a mandrake draught?"

Riddle peeked around at the empty corridor, and finding them alone, said quietly, "That’s blood magic you’re talking about, and even healing spells are illegal in Great Britain if they’re dark."

Hida froze, suddenly recalling England’s near-fanatical stance against the Dark Arts. But Riddle obviously knew about the dark healing ritual she was referencing, and the way he was watching her, intense and almost eager, made her inclined to believe that he might not agree with his country’s stance on darkly affiliated branches of magic. 

This had the potential to either gain her a lot of trust from Riddle, or completely backfire. She would hate to alienate her potential recruit this early in the game. But even so, she had always trusted her gut. Speaking with forced casualness, she said, "Completely ridiculous. Those students had months of their lives stolen, and for what? Baseless prejudice?"

Riddle’s reaction was everything she could have hoped for. His eyes brightened and his entire body relaxed with languid confidence. He honestly resembled a smug cat more than anything, and Hida had to fight not to straighten with her own surge of triumph. 

"Quite so," he smirked, and they both fell into silence as they resumed walking towards the transfiguration classroom.

Deciding it was best to switch back to a safer topic, at least while they were out in public halls where anyone could overhear them, Hida asked, "So, did the professors catch the beast?"

"Ah, no. The teachers didn’t." Riddle looked at her out of the corner of his eye and ducked his head, though something about his bashfulness struck her as insincere. "Actually, I was the one who caught it?"

"You did?"

"Yes. It turned out that a 3rd Year Gryffindor was keeping an acromantula as a pet, and I found him feeding it in an abandoned classroom shortly after the girl was killed. Hagrid was expelled the next day."

"An acromantula? But those don’t paralyze their prey."

Riddle just gave another of his strangely laid-back shrugs and commented, "It wasn’t the first time the half-giant had brought a dangerous monster into the school, and the assaults ceased after he was expelled."

"And the professors actually stopped looking? Just like that?"

"Yes."

"Are you not concerned that the creature is still here in the castle?"

"Well, it’s _Slytherin’s_ monster. It’s not like I have anything to fear. None of the paralyzed students were in our house."

"Or it was just someone who was pretending to be the Heir of Slytherin," she pointed out.

He looked slightly miffed at her response, but conceded her point with a nod, though he continued to argue. "Even still, anyone going to so much trouble to _pretend_ to be Slytherin’s heir wouldn’t just break character midway and attack a Slytherin."

"Well, I cannot fault your logic there," she agreed. "But if you knew acromantulas don’t paralyze their prey, why did you turn this Hagrid in as the culprit?"

"They awarded me an award for Special Services to the School," he smirked, and Hida made a mental note that Riddle’s ambition clearly outweighed his sense of empathy. She could work with that. He quickly continued however, complicating the mental portrait she had begun to draw of him in her mind. "Besides, they were talking of shutting down the school. I had to do something, give them something, to keep that from happening."

"You would rather be here, even with a deadly monster rampaging about, than at your home?" she asked, and watched as his face closed off.

"This is my home," was all he said in response, and then they were at the door to the transfiguration classroom. 

"Mr. Riddle. Miss Potter. You’re late," Professor Dumbledore stated the obvious as soon as they entered the room, and Hida observed the deep suspicion in his blue eyes as he looked between the two of them. She wondered if he thought she and Riddle had taken a broom closet detour on their way here and had to suppress her mirth at the idea that her father’s old friend might actually be scandalized by such a thing. 

"We’re sorry, professor," Riddle apologized. "Myrtle’s ghost flooded the bathroom again, and we were trying to get it cleaned up."

There was something almost wickedly amused in the Head Boy’s expression as he stared down Dumbledore, and a dark, angry look immediately shadowed the teacher’s gaze in response, making Hida wonder what she was missing. 

"Be that as it may," Dumbledore bit out, words far sharper than Hida could believe was possibly necessary for a little tardiness, "I expect all of my students to be on time for class. I’m going to have to take 30 points from Slytherin. Please don’t let it happen again."

Well, that seemed excessive, especially in light of the mere 20 points Hufflepuff had lost when Smith verbally assaulted her. Perhaps she should standardize punishments as part of her educational reform. 

As Hida moved to sit at her desk, she looked over at Riddle to see how he had taken the verbal dressing down, and was surprised to perceive blatant anger creasing his face as he all but glared daggers at their auburn-haired instructor. 

She was missing something. She wondered where the animosity between between her enemy and her future recruit had started and whether it could prove beneficial to her mission. A matter to look into later, she decided, concentrating back on the lesson. If she could say nothing else in Dumbledore’s favor, he was at least an admittedly entertaining teacher, and she enjoyed listening to him lecture.


	5. The Hidden Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning, this chapter contains mentions of child sexual abuse. Nothing actually happens, but it is referenced.

Hida was convinced Riddle had a crush on her. 

Not that his near constant presence was unenjoyable or hindered her mission efforts too much, but with all of her limited alone time these past three weeks consumed with planting the seeds for the next gambit in her shadow war against Dumbledore, she was only just now finding the time to come back and explore that curious section of warded wall she had discovered on her first day in the castle. 

But Tom (and he was _Tom_ now, with how much time they had spent together) had disappeared with his posse tonight, and all of the groundwork for her latest scheme had been set. For the past three weeks, whenever Tom’s group disappeared, she had used the time to track down wandering students and hide little suggestions in their minds—half-remembered rumors and oh-so-suspicous meetings behind closed doors—small things that would hopefully snowball into a very large problem for her transfiguration teacher soon. All there was left for Hida to do now, was wait. 

Wait and explore her more trivial interests. 

She rounded a corner into yet another identical dungeon corridor, resisting the urge to break into a jog for the last few feet. Those wards had been so _pretty_. Such a pleasant surprise to welcome her into the school, and now she finally had the chance to play with them. She may have been an almost unmatched fighter, but warding was really where her passion lay. 

Grinning, she reached out with her magic to gently poke at the wards, like a kitten batting at a piece of string to watch how it moves.

Sight was probably the best way to describe it to someone who could not sense the magic, but it wasn’t really. She could sense the different energies, their patterns and the way they wove and moved around each other to create a greater whole, but there was no glowing array of magical strings in front of her. It was a completely separate sixth sense, and trying to describe it was like trying to explain color to a blind person. 

It was obvious that whoever had created this warding scheme was talented. It was also equally obvious that he or she was untrained—probably new to the field and completely self-taught. Little inefficiencies, some more glaring than others, riddled the net. A small knot here, an unconnected line there, and weaves that would really be better in a different arrangement. The protections were meant to hide an entrance from the senses, but failed to conceal the energy of the wards themselves from discovery. But if she braided that bit in just _there_.

She laughed as the weave suddenly faded, becoming camouflaged to her senses. To ‘see' the wards at all now, a person would have to touch them at just the right angle. Hida honestly impressed even herself sometimes. 

Now, to find out what these beauties were actually hiding. 

But barely a minute passed before Hida realized that she would not be exploring whatever chamber waited on the other side of this hidden door. There was somebody already inside. 

Sighing, she retreated to the end of the hall and cast a series of short-term concealment wards that would keep her invisible so long as she stayed relatively still. She had a couple of new warding books in her bag that she could read through while she waited to see who would come out of the cloaked door. Her father had been badgering her about her thoughts for some additional protections for Nurmengard Prison anyways. 

For the next two hours, Hida remained occupied with noting down warding ideas, before finally her stakeout bore fruit, and people started exiting the hidden room. 

She didn’t know why she was surprised to recognize Tom’s group of friends (the very people whose absence she had been taking advantage of), seemingly walking through the solid stone of the dungeon wall, with Tom following up at the rear. She knew the group of boys had a tendency to disappear, but she had not imagined they’d been going somewhere so covert, and the new knowledge sent her mind scrambling to figure out what they could be doing that would require such secrecy. 

The most logical explanation was that they were practicing some darker spells as they didn’t seem like the types to experiment with drugs, but the number of protections on the room seemed a tad excessive if that was the case. A basic proximity ward would keep them safe enough in any out of the way classroom. It’s not like it was hard to just stop casting if anyone came too close.

Unless, maybe they were using some higher level spells? Things that would leave a magical trace for minutes or even hours after the fact. 

She’d been sharing small bits of information with Tom over the last few weeks in an attempt to slowly whet his appetite for more knowledge, but maybe it was time to start giving him access to more _interesting_ stuff. Perhaps a demonstration, even. She would need to make sure he performed the spells in front of her too, though; it wouldn’t do to give him any leverage. 

She wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying, and she was wary of casting any eavesdropping charms in such a confined space—Tom must have been the one to cast the wards that concealed the chamber, and warding with that degree of skill required at least a decent development of one’s magical sensitivity. And, so close to something he obviously wanted to keep secret, Tom was bound to be vigilant. Listening in on their conversation wasn’t nearly important enough to risk being noticed over. 

Quickly packing her bag back up, Hida decided to retreat while the boys were lingering outside of their masked room.

Once she was a few floors away, she checked her mother’s map, an ingenious invention which showed the locations of every person within Hogwarts, and, satisfied that she was alone and all of the teachers were in their own rooms, dropped her Disillusionment charm. 

For a while, she just wandered around the school, at first contemplating her plans and later simply admiring the beauty of the castle at night. 

Then soft crying caught her attention, and Hida smiled when she recognized the little second year tucked up against a column in the empty corridor, not even a portrait present to witness the boy’s upset. This was one of the first children she had given false memories.

Throwing a Forget Me charm over her face, Hida approached the weeping Ravenclaw and crouched down in front of him. “What’s wrong sweetheart?”

The boy jumped in surprise before hastily trying to dry his eyes with his already damp robe sleeve. “Nothin’,” he croaked.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” she murmured, reaching out to gently squeeze his trembling shoulder.

“I—” he started to speak, but another choked sob cut off his words.

“What’s your name, luv?” Hida asked, keeping her voice gentle and reassuring.

“J-Johny. Johny Meadows.”

“Can you tell me what’s wrong, Johny?”

“I-I d-don’t—”

“It’s alright, Johny. You can trust me.” She infused her words with magic, and watched with satisfaction as the tension bled from the boy’s form.

“I’m w-worried about my friend.”

“What’s making you worried about him?”

“He, well, he says he’s fine. And he told me, he told me to leave it alone. B-b-but he keeps having these meetings with, with a _teacher,_ and I’ve tried the door, and it’s always locked! A-and he always looks really upset after. And I’ve heard that Dumbled…Uh, I mean—”

Johny stared up at her with wide eyes, suddenly uncertain again, and Hida pushed more soothing magic at him as she slowly rubbed a supportive hand over his back. 

“Dumbledore?” She asked, and Johny nodded back mutely. “What have you heard about him?”

“I-I don’t know who told me,” he implored, as if he was trying to protect someone that Hida knew didn’t actually exist. “But just, you know, that First and Second years really sh-shouldn’t be alone with D-Dumbledore because he might… _like us_ too much.”

“And do you think he likes your friend too much? Do you think he’s hurt him, Johny?”

The little boy just nodded, more tears falling from his eyes. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Johny? I know your friend says he’s fine, but I think you know that’s not really true. Don’t you, luv?”

He stared at her, hanging off Hida’s every word, and whispered almost too quietly for the witch to hear, “Yes.”

“I know you only want to do what’s best for your friend, that you want him to stop being hurt,” she waited for the boy to agree before continuing. “And the only way to help him, is to tell someone.”

“I’m t-telling you.”

“I mean an adult, one of the other teachers,” she corrected kindly. 

“But what if he hates me?” He sound so very young and scared, and Hida couldn’t help the stab of sympathy she felt for the child, despite knowing none of his worries were necessary. Johny didn’t have any friends who were meeting with Dumbledore behind locked doors. 

“He might be very angry at first,” she acknowledged, keeping her tone as calming as she could make it. “Lot’s of people get embarrassed when the things that hurt them are exposed. But he’ll forgive you with time; he’ll probably be grateful that you acted to protect him. But even if he stays mad, it’s still the right thing to do.”

Johny nodded slowly, biting his lip as he took in her words, before his eyes narrowed in determination. “You’re right. I need to tell a teacher.”

“You’re a good friend, Johny. It’s very brave of you, choosing to do the right thing. I know it’s not always easy.”

He swallowed thickly then flung his arms around Hida in a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she whispered. Pulling back, she gave him a soft smile and wiped the tear tracks off his cheeks. “You should head to bed now though. It’s very late.”

Johny glanced around, seeming surprised by the darkness, and clambered to his feet. Casting one last grateful look in her direction, he uttered a faint “goodnight” and jogged off down the hall. 

“You’re out late tonight, Hida,” a smooth baritone voice sounded behind her, and Hida froze. Turning around slowly, she saw Tom standing about ten feet behind her, exaggeratedly checking his watch. “Over two hours past curfew. Tut, tut.”

“Tom,” she started, only to fall silent. This was sloppy. Beyond sloppy. She could have all the confidence in the world in her ability to outmaneuver every untested child in this school, and it would mean nothing if she didn’t bother to employ basic counter surveillance measures. Only checking her mother’s map for the position of the teachers, and disregarding all of the students, fully assured she would sense any of them approaching, was just stupid. 

Underneath her instinctive alarm, though, Hida couldn’t help but to feel a bit impressed with Tom. Even distracted, it was a rare person who could get the drop on her. 

“What? No excuses?” Tom teased when the silence started to stretch into awkwardness, and Hida finally started to relax. Even if he had been watching her for a while, he wouldn’t have seen anything incriminating. After all, all she had done was talk to a distressed child. Hida was confident he wouldn’t have been close enough to notice the Forget Me charm on her face.

“Do I need one?” she countered, smiling lightly.

He sauntered closer, mischief dancing in his eyes. “I think most of the teachers would say it’s my duty to make sure rule breakers don’t get off without being punished. Friends or no.”

“Are you going to take points from me, Tom?” She stepped closer, something about the shadows, broken only by soft moonlight coming from the window behind him, framing Tom in a silvery halo like some dark angel, made her feel strangely magnetized. 

“I’m sure I could come up with a more creative punishment than that,” he said softly, eyes suddenly intent. 

“You think so? What kind of _creative_ penance did you have in mind, then?”

His eyes dropped to her lips, just for a second, before he dragged them back up. “That,” he smirked, “would be telling. And half of any good punishment is in the suspense.”

She grinned. “Then, will you be escorting me back to the dorm to await my sentence, Prefect?”

He offered her his arm, and once she had looped her hand into the crook of his elbow, he replied, “I do have to make sure you don’t get into any more trouble.”

“Just my luck,” she sighed dramatically, “to be caught out by such a beacon of virtue.”

 

§§§

 

Hida draped herself casually over a section of the courtyard wall, a Hearing-Enhancement charm allowing her to listen in to the various conversations taking place around the quad. The numerous accusations against Dumbledore, all spilling forth in the wake of that initial complaint from four days ago, were all anyone could talk about. 

The only reason Dumbledore still had a job (which gossip claimed he was fighting tooth and nail to keep) was because no actual victims had stepped forward. It was all concerned friends, convinced the transfiguration teacher was hurting their classmates. 

The authorities had been called of course; Hida had seen several aurors coming and going over the past few days, taking statements and collecting memories from students, and transfiguration classes had been canceled for the foreseeable future. It would come out that every last one of those memories were false, maybe in a month or so, after an expert had had time to view the evidence, but for now, Dumbledore seemed to be up a creek without a paddle. 

Hida couldn’t have felt more smug if she’d taken a Superiority potion. 

In her left robe pocket, the two-way mirror that she used to communicate with her father heated in ten quick beats, letting her know that he wanted to talk to her tonight at 10:00, and she felt a Cheshire Cat grin stretch across her face, giddiness making her want to hop around the grounds while laughing like a maniac. This plot of hers had bought her father at least a solid month of assured silence from Dumbledore on the warfront. 

That night, fifteen minutes before she was scheduled to chat with her father, she slipped from the Slytherin dorms and made her way to an unused classroom on the third floor. Tossing proximity and silencing wards at the door, she moved to sit under the window on the far side of the room and pulled out her enchanted mirror. 

It only took two rings for him to answer, but when he did, she was surprised and disappointed to see he looked angry. She would have thought his spies in the British Ministry would have informed him of Dumbledore’s recent misfortunes. 

“Hida,” he said, voice cold and biting.

She almost flinched back at his tone, but managed to suppress the knee-jerk reaction at the last second. “Papa,” she greeted warily. “Has…something happened?”

He stared at her, jaw muscle flexing in the way she knew only happened whenever he was especially incensed. “Is this what you think I sent you to Hogwarts for? This disgraceful show you’re putting on with Albus's reputation?”

“I—”

"I said to keep him occupied and out of the fighting, not to destroy his good name!" Her father hissed, and Hida knew if she were before him in person rather than speaking through their enchanted mirrors, he would have been flinging curses at her.

"You told me you wanted him distracted but alive. This accomplishes that," Hida defended herself, only mildly comforted by the rare opportunity to speak the familiar syllables of her native tongue. 

"In an unacceptable manner," her father rebutted, fury visible in every line of his face. "Albus is not to be harmed."

"Harmed?" Hida reared back. "I’ve done nothing to him! I’ve not touched a single hair on his head. It’s just a few rumors father."

"A few rumors?" Grindelwald exclaimed. "You started gossip that he is a pedophile! His career could be ruined by this!" 

"Exactly!" Hida said, frustrated with her father. "He will have to focus on saving his job. It will keep him occupied for a while, but there is nothing to substantiate these rumors; I never even planted any substantive memories, just enough to start speculation. He’ll clear it all up soon enough, no problem."

"You will clear it up for him," the Dark Lord ordered. "Make these rumors go away Hida. Find another way to accomplish your task."

Hida shook her head almost violently. "This is impossible! You want me to keep him so occupied that he can’t join the biggest war the world has ever seen, but I can’t damage him at all? No killing. No injuring. And now I am not even supposed to cause him psychological damage? You’re not leaving me with any options impactful enough to actually stop him from leaving!"

Stormy blue eyes narrowed at her dangerously. "Then you better start getting more creative. Find another way, Hida. That is an order." 

The mirror went dark as her father abruptly ended the call, and Hida leaned her head back against the empty classroom wall, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her chest burned with resentment and anger, so much so that she had no doubt she could breathe fire in that moment. Knocking her head against the wall, she took several deep breaths, slowly forcing her roiling emotions down into a semblance of calm. It was already 45 minutes past curfew, and she needed to get back to the Slytherin dormitory.

She would get to work on changing course later. After she had gotten a full night of rest.


	6. The Black Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left a comment on this story! I know I'm horrible about actually responding, but they are appreciated!

When Hida awoke the next morning, she was nearly as frustrated and morose as she had been when she went to bed the previous night. 

Be more creative, her father had said. Well fine. But that didn’t help her with solving this mess she’d made for Dumbledore _for him._ She’d been very careful when originally planting the evidence to make sure it was a problem that would go away on its own. But she’d also made sure to create enough false memories that it would take, at minimum, a month for an expert to determine that they were all false.

All her father was really doing was forcing her to speed up an inevitable resolution. And damn and blast it all, but she’d been counting on having that extra time. It would hardly take some grand leap of logic for Dumbledore to start suspecting the German girl with no papers (that he _already_ found suspicious) as the likely saboteur once the authorities realized someone was working advanced mind magics on the student population. 

She had known that before she ever executed the plan. So while they may not be able to prove anything, her time flying under the radar was going to come to an end much sooner than she’d intended. 

Groaning, she rolled out of bed, sneering when Pettigrew skittered backwards like a scared little mouse at the disgruntled noise. The girl had finally caved and started sleeping in their dorm room again, but she acted like Hida was seconds away from murdering her at any given moment. In fact, the only other Seventh Year girl that didn’t seem frightened of Hida was Dorea Black.

Dressing quickly, she threw her hair up in a messy bun, not in the mood to deal with the hassle that was her glamoured hair, and headed towards the other girl who was waiting for her by the door. 

Dorea arched one perfectly plucked brow at Hida’s appearance but made no other comment, instead saying, “You were out late last night.”

Hida glanced over. “I took a walk around the lake. It’s beautiful at night.”

“Hmm, well you missed the news.”

“What happened?”

“Slughorn made the announcement, just before curfew. Apparently since transfiguration is canceled, the school has decided to bring in a guest lecturer.”

“For transfiguration?”

“Oh, no. That’s why all the boys are so excited,” she said, rolling her eyes. “They’re bringing in a colonel from the army. He’s going to be talking about the war, fighting tactics and the like.”

Hida narrowed her eyes. “Is this some kind of recruiting event?”

“Most likely,” Dorea shrugged. “Only Sixth and Seventh years are being allowed to attend. It’s completely optional though.”

“Are you going to go, then?”

“Probably. I’m really more interested in joining the Healing Corps, but it might be interesting. What about you? Will you go?”

“Oh, most definitely,” Hida laughed. “I’ve always enjoyed a good duel. I’m sure a colonel will have a lot of good advice.”

“Truly?” Dorea asked, sarcasm thick in her voice. “You never struck me as much of a fighter.”

Hida just laughed again, shaking her head with a small smile. “In all seriousness though,” she replied, biting her lip with faux anxiety, “this war is my fight, and I need all the help I can get.”

Dorea’s expression softened. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

About an hour later, after the two girls had snagged a quick breakfast, they were settling into their seats at the front of a large lecture hall that had been cleared for the guest speaker, along with almost every other Sixth and Seventh year at the school. 

Charlus, always eager to be near his girlfriend, had seized the seat to Dorea's right, and Tom had grabbed the spot to Hida’s left, with the rest of their normal group of Slytherins clustered around them. 

“Malfoy is so mad he’s not allowed to be here,” Ramsey LeStrange chortled.

Cygnus Black sniggered, joining in to mock the younger boy. “Poor little Fifth Years, they miss all the fun.”

“You’re just barely old enough to be here,” taunted his older cousin, Arcturus.

“Teachers didn’t stop me when I tried to sneak in though, did they?” Cygnus protested. 

“Do you think the colonel will actually teach us to fight?” Marcus Avery broke in to change the topic. “Like, let us run through some military drills or something?”

“Ooh, I hope he shows us some real fighting spells,” Cygnus leaned forward, expression as bright and eager as Avery’s. “Stuff they wouldn’t teach us in regular Defense classes.”

“I read about this combustion curse in my family library that can explode whole buildings,” Charlus grinned. “And I bet the army has whole demolition groups!”

“Such a Gryffindor,” Avery shook his head in fake chastisement. “Always going for the flashy stuff.”

“Oh yeah? What do you want to learn then?” Charlus challenged.

Avery tilted his head up superiorly. “I’ve heard they’ve got a charm that can hide whole platoons. I bet something like that would let you flank the enemy completely undetected.”

“I doubt we’ll be taught any actual spells,” Tom spoke up. “From what Professor Slughorn said, it sounds like this colonel is just going to be talking about basic tactics.”

Just as Tom finished speaking, an unfamiliar voice greeted them from the front of the classroom, and Hida looked up to see an athletically built man dressed in casual navy robes leaning against the teacher’s podium. “Good morning, everyone. My name is Colonel George McDougal. I’m stationed with the 52nd Division of Britain’s Magical Armed Forces, just back from France for a month of leave. And I, uh, I’m here to speak to you about the realities of war, I suppose. 

“Your Professor Merrythought asked me to come talk to you today because a lot of you have expressed interest in enlisting, and we wanted to give you an idea of what you might be facing: some strategies, some spells that you should brush up on, and the like.

“Now uh, before I dive in, I want to reiterate that this is an optional class. I’m going to be showing pensieve memories of real battles. They will be violent. There will be blood. And you will see people die. If you don’t think you can handle that, or if it get’s to be too much for you at any time, you can just get up and leave. No one will think less of you if you do.”

A couple of students stood up and started walking towards the door as soon as the colonel paused, with more and more students quickly following until over a quarter of the group had left. 

Colonel McDougal gave the remaining teenagers a grim nod and tapped the pensieve that had been glowing a subtle silvery blue from its spot in front of a large white sheet. “Alright then, let’s get started.” 

A frozen image of several hundred magical soldiers creeping towards the edge of a shadowy forest appeared on the white sheet. “This battle took place just this past May. We lost...badly. I want you to try and pay attention to the way Grindelwald’s ground troops routed us, and the formation of the Black Hand’s so called ‘Hippogriff Cavalry.’ When the memory finishes playing, we are going to spend the rest of the period going over potential tactics that would help you survive a battle like this, and discussing the ways that this hippogriff cavalry differs from the more traditional broom-mounted or abraxan-mounted cavalries.”

The students all turned their attention to the memory, riveted by the action taking place on the screen, and Hida felt a deep thrill of satisfaction as she watched. 

The Hippogryph Cavalry wasn’t really her brainchild, for all that it was attributed to her alter ego. The idea was developed by her former Care of Magical Creatures tutor, Newt Scamander: a brilliant if eccentric man, and unfortunately, a deserter. Her father had tasked an entire team with the sole mission of tracking Scamander down before he could pass his method for taming the beasts on to their enemy, but last Hida had heard, they’d not had any luck catching him. 

Fortunately for them, even if Scamander did get in contact with the Allied forces, actually developing a full hippogryph unit was both time-consuming and expensive. Outside of the logistics of acquiring enough animals in the first place was the issue of actually breaking them. 

Every rider had to first earn the trust of an individual hippogryph before any fight training could even commence, and the beasts were beyond stubborn about who they chose to work with. Her own mount had refused 76 potentials before finally accepting her, though on average it didn’t usually take more than twenty attempts to find a match. 

This was why an entire unit of hippogryph-mounted troops was unheard of before Grindelwald’s army debuted theirs, despite their deadly efficiency in battle. People used to think that such a thing required a special bond between animal and human, like Godric Gryffindor had famously had with his griffin companion. No one believed it was something your average soldier could accomplish. Not until Newt Scamander. 

On the screen, the Allied soldiers suddenly broke formation as their attention was diverted from the Axis ground troops in front of them to Grindelwald’s soldiers who were unexpectedly dive-bombing them from the rear. 

There were fighters on brooms maintaining defensive shields as wave after wave of hippogryph-mounted attackers rained down on the Allied troops, powerful talons mauling anyone who did not duck quickly enough even as riders blasted deadly fire down from the beasts’ backs. 

Hida spotted herself at the back of the unit, not diving like the rest of her people, but instead shooting off precisely aimed Killing curses in rapid flashes of green at ranked officers from on high. She knew she’d also been shouting commands at the signal guard, but that wasn’t apparent in the memory. Her battle garb kept her completely obscured, a terrifying and faceless black shadow, and the screaming and chaos on the ground masked any sound from her that someone may have been able to hear in a calmer situation. 

A shimmer suddenly spread out over the battlefield, like a giant bubble popping, as someone finally managed to bring down the anti-apparition wards, and the pensieve version of Colonel McDougal, a large cut painting his face red with blood, started shouting for his men to retreat even as he supported the slumped form of another man dressed in a lieutenant’s uniform. 

The real Colonel McDougal stepped forward then, flicking his wand at the pensieve, and the screen went blank. 

Peeking around, Hida could see that most of her classmates looked pale with shock, maybe even a little nauseous, though there were a decent number who appeared more angry and determined, like they were gearing themselves up to head into imminent battle. 

The colonel gave them all a minute to regroup before beginning his lecture, going over basic battle tactics and useful spells, just as he’d said he would at the beginning of the lecture. Hida payed close attention to every word, but he didn’t end up saying anything particularly interesting. This was a lesson aimed at fresh recruits, hardly the thoughts of generals.

So when she exited the classroom about an hour later with her somewhat shellshocked fellow students, she wasn’t surprised by the fact that she hadn’t learned anything new. 

As the quiet group made their way down to the Great Hall for an early lunch, Hida turned Tom and asked softly, “So, what did you think?”

Tom was silent for a moment, letting the others walk a little ahead of the them, before he replied, “I think…that it looks like our army needs better leadership if we’re going to stand a chance at winning this war.”

Hida raised her brows in surprise. “The violence didn’t bother you?”

Tom shook his head ruefully, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “That’s not the first time I’ve seen that level of bloodshed,” he admitted, glancing towards their friends to make sure no one was close enough to hear him. “Besides, that was just a memory.”

“When did you…”

“I was in London. During several muggle bombings.”

“Ah. It get’s easier, but it never does get any less scary, does it?” She commiserated. Hida knew he would think she was referring to her supposed life as a refugee, one who had lived through several attacks rather than actual battle, but that didn’t make her empathy any less genuine. 

Tom just shrugged, wordlessly acknowledging her support, and switched the topic back to the status of the British Magical Forces. “Our army seemed totally unprepared, like no one in charge had a single creative thought between them that would have allowed them to anticipate an arial rear attack.”

“Well, to be fair, the Hippogryph Cavalry is completely unprecedented.”

“True, and whoever pioneered that was brilliant, but arial fighting in general is not uncommon.”

Hida nodded. “What would you have done to counter it?” 

Tom’s brows scrunched together in thought in an unguarded expression she had only ever seen grace his face when he was completely absorbed in a book to the exclusion of all else. “Well, for starters, there’s absolutely no reason it should have taken that long for our people to dismantle the anti-apparition wards. From my understanding, our army counter-wards on an ad hoc basis, but it seems pretty obvious that every company, if not every platoon, should have a squad whose sole duty should be counter-warding.

“And,” he continued, becoming more enthusiastic the longer he talked, “our troops didn’t utilize their environment at all! There are plenty of low-powered earth-based spells that they could have used to send physical projectiles at Grindelwald’s cavalry instead of just relying on spells that those broom-mounted soldiers were clearly blocking. Not to mention the Fourth Year Burrowing charm they could have used to get better shelter from the hippogryphs' claws. And I know plant-based magic is more difficult, but at least the officers should have had enough skill to manipulate the trees. It’s not like Grindelwald’s forces were attacking us on an open field!”

It was like his warding, Hida thought as they sat down at the Slytherin table. Tom seemed to have an intuitive grasp of these concepts that would require very little instruction to blossom into true skill. And she wanted that kind of potential on her side. 

Conversation lapsed for a minute as they all filled their plates with food. It usually took people a while to start talking again once they had the school fare in front of them, which Hida simply took as proof of the Hogwarts house-elve’s superior cooking ability. 

"Why do you think they call him the Black Hand? I’ve never really gotten it," Charlus piped up as he read through an article from that morning’s newspaper about the Black Hand’s mysterious absence in recent battles. There was some speculation that the deadly fighter had been killed, but there were just as many theories guessing that she was off quietly assassinating leaders in the allied forces (despite the fact that none of those leaders had been dropping dead recently).

"I would think that that’s obvious," Dorea answered her boyfriend. "Everyone knows he’s Grindelwald’s right hand man, and he’s always dressed all in black. Even his face is hidden by a black-out spell."

"I guess," Charlus shrugged. "He did look pretty terrifying in the colonel's memories, but it still seems like a rather ominous name to give someone just because they only wear black."

Here Hida couldn’t help but interrupt the couple’s conversation. She had earned that title, and she would have these Brits understand why. "While Dorea isn’t wrong exactly, that’s not really why the Black Hand is called the Black Hand."

"Oh?" Tom chimed in as the other Slytherins around them quieted down to hear what the German witch had to say about one of the most mysterious figures in the news. 

Hida shook her head. "No. The Black Hand is called that because," Hida paused, barely refraining from describing her masked persona as female. "Well, because _his_ signature spell in battle is the Black Death curse."

Several of the students from darker families sucked in surprised breaths, and Tom’s eyes widened with recognition. Charlus, however, with his fundamentally light upbringing, just looked confused. "What is that?" the Gryffindor asked.

Hida turned to face her supposed cousin directly. "It’s black magic, and harder to master than even the Patronus charm. Only someone with a natural affinity for the necromantic arts even stands a chance at casting it. It surrounds its victims in a black mist and sucks out all of their energy. They’re dead within seconds, and all that energy is transferred to the caster. The more people the Black Hand kills with it, the longer he can fight."

Charlus looked horrified. "Why isn’t it unforgivable? Surely if the Killing curse is, then something like that should be!" He grimaced, face pale.

"It can be countered," Hida shrugged. "It’s not very likely—you’d only have maybe 4 seconds once it hits you, and you’d be losing your energy reserves the entire time—but it can be done. Once one of the Unforgivables hits you, they can’t be stopped with a spell. The only one that you can even fight through is the Imperius, and that comes down to pure strength of mind, not magic." 

"Because that makes it better," Charlus spat.

"I agree," Hida nodded. "The idea of Unforgivables is a rather useless distinction. The Black Death curse kills just as surely as the Killing curse. "

"Exactly!" Charlus nodded vigorously.

"The results, not the magic itself, should be what is punished. Just casting a spell shouldn’t get you jailed," Hida agreed.

"Wait, no. That’s not what I meant," Charlus denied, brows furrowed. "I meant we should ban the use of spells like the Black Death curse too. They should all be illegal and get you sent straight to prison. We shouldn’t limit it to just the three Unforgivables we have right now."

Hida tilted her head to the side slightly in confusion. She and her supposed cousin had clearly been talking at cross purposes. "Why?"

"Why?" Charlus looked almost stunned at her question."Because that kind of magic is wrong! You said it yourself: right now the distinction between the Unforgivables and other destructive curses is a useless division. We should have stricter punishments for using other dark magic too so that people are deterred from using all those other horrible spells just as much as they are deterred from using the Unforgivables."

"But almost any spell can be used to harm people," Hida argued. "Why should a person who kills a man with a well placed Diffindo be punished the same as a man who just shoots the Killing curse at a bug?" 

"Well…" Charlus trailed off, trying to organize his thoughts. In his gut, the Gryffindor knew he was right, but he wasn’t used to debating policy at the lunch table, and he had never spent much time considering the punishment for the Unforgivable curses before. 

"The argument could be made that there are many innocent purposes for the Cutting curse, whereas the only purpose of the Killing curse is to kill," Tom cut in, giving Hida a challenging look. She figured he must just be playing Devil’s advocate though, since nothing Hida had ever heard the Head Boy say before had ever indicated that he believed there should be _more_ restrictions on magic. 

"You say that as though you truly cannot think of any benign uses for the Unforgivables," she shot back immediately, and Tom’s lips twitched in a quickly suppressed smile. 

"And you can?" Charlus asked. 

Hida reluctantly drew her eyes away from Tom to answer Charlus. "Of course," she shrugged. "The Killing curse was originally created for hunters, as a way to kill game without damaging the meat. It is also probably a more humane way to slaughter livestock and euthanize animals than the spells and potions currently in use in most parts of the world. The Killing curse is an instant and painless death. It only gained a bad reputation after the serial killer, Aksel Nielsen, used it to murder more than seventy children back in the 1700s." 

"And the other two?" Tom asked just as Charlus looked ready to offer a rebuttal. 

"Someone under the Imperius curse is capable of performing tasks he would be wholly unable to perform while free. Anything the caster is capable of, so too is the victim. Perhaps you have a wizard trapped in a cave-in of some sort, and for some reason the only people who would be able to escape would have to have special training. If a specially trained witch were to Imperius the trapped wizard, she could then guide him out of an otherwise impossible to escape situation. 

"As for the Cruciatus, I suppose torture is it’s only real use, but governments the world over use torture during interrogations, and I don’t see why there should be any distinction made for this one curse."

"You make it sound nice and all, but what about intent?" Charlus argued. "To cast any one of those curses, you have to really mean them. You have to want to kill, or control, or torture."

"Yes," Hida conceded, "but your desire for those things does not have to be malicious. I enjoy hunting, and anytime I kill a deer, I want to kill it. Some might want to kill it because that means they get to eat, others, like me, want to kill it just because they enjoy the thrill of the sport, and yet most people would not say hunting is bad or wrong."

"Alright fine, but even if you can get around all of the moral issues of using those curses, and I’m not convinced you have, you can’t escape the fact that dark magic is harmful, both to the caster and to the victim. You can’t exactly eat a deer that’s been tainted by the Killing curse, and that person you save with the Imperius curse would have toxic magical residue in their mind. For the side effects alone, we should be ensuring people don’t use that kind of magic."

Here, Hida actually couldn’t refrain from rolling her eyes. "That’s just Light propaganda," she said. "Dark magic itself doesn’t have any more side effects than light magic."

"What? That’s not true!" Charlus exclaimed. "Our teachers, the ministry, even scholarly journals, they all say dark magic corrupts."

"Maybe here in Britain they do, but your country has always been so anti-Dark Arts it’s no surprise that that’s what they tell you."

"Well, it cannot be just the UK that thinks that way," Dorea spoke up, finally reentering the conversation. "Didn’t Durmstrang expel Grindelwald because of his experiments with the dark arts?"

"Yes," Tom answered her, "and they are known for their tolerance of dark magic."

"His expulsion had nothing to do with his use of the Dark Arts," Hida denied, quickly continuing when everyone stared at her with varying degrees of disbelief painted on their faces. "The school didn’t have any problem with the fact that he was using dark magic. They kicked him out because his experiments nearly killed five students."

"You still haven’t said anything that proves that our Ministry and teachers and everyone over here, and half of Europe besides, are actually wrong about dark magic in general though," Charlus pointed out, deciding not to dwell on the fact that Grindelwald was clearly a psychopath even at their age. 

"The only difference between light and dark magic," Hida stated, unconsciously mimicking the lecturing tones of one of her first and favorite tutors, "is that they operate on a different range of frequencies. Light wizards are innately more adept at harnessing the magic in the light range, while dark wizards are born with a natural inclination towards the magic in the dark range. Neutral magic falls on the range of frequencies between the two extremes, and pretty much all magicals can harness things in this range, no matter where their core falls on the spectrum."

"Light magic spells are used for defense and healing, though. There are barely any light curses, and most dark magic is destructive in some way," Charlus denied.

"Most, but not all," Hida nodded. "And that’s really just true of Latin-based magic. The truth is, both spectrums are equally capable of producing spells to create as well as spells to destroy. The reason dark magic seems so geared towards destruction now is because dark wizards in the past have focussed more on battle. Historically, leaders in European armies have been dark, as have many of their top advisors, and they were the ones pushing for innovation within the dark spectrum. The historical forerunners in the light magic spectrum, on the other hand, were often personal healers and bodyguards for royalty, and they had a lot of money and power backing the creation of new light healing spells and shields. All these differences that you are pointing out between the two spectrums now, exist because of humans. They are not inherent to the magic itself." 

She turned away from Charlus then, about to take another bite of her salad, when she caught Tom’s eye. He was leaning towards her eagerly, his cheeks flushed with a healthy glow and dark eyes alight with fascination; Hida felt her breath hitch, blood flooding into her own cheeks under his intense focus. 

“No offense Hida, but it sounds like you actually agree with Grindelwald,” Charlus muttered, and she slowly dragged her gaze away from Tom. 

“What? Grindelwald’s not fighting for magic equality!” she denied vehemently. “He’s fighting to end the Statute of Secrecy!

“Look,” she sighed when Charlus’s only response was a skeptical frown, “there’s a pretty famous exploration of the Magical Spectrum Theory that was written by the French historian, Louis Bernard, only 20 years ago: _Une Histoire Complète de Magie Noire._ I cannot imagine Hogwarts has purchased it. But it should be easy enough to owl order."

The Gryffindor agreed to do so with a grimace, looking simultaneously reluctant and determined.

Tom, on the other hand, just appeared delighted. "Let me borrow it when you finish, Charlus," he demanded, apparently totally unconcerned with issuing his request politely in the face of his desire for new knowledge.

Hida lifted her glass to hide an accomplished grin. For a moment, she'd been worried she'd revealed too much.


End file.
